A Murder of Crows
by Patchsky
Summary: In WindClan, cats are dropping like flies. And all eyes seem to be fixated on one warrior.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

..

The moon overhead is simply a sliver of a claw whose silver and gray light radiates intensely against the purple-and-black night sky, dotted with specks of distant gleaming stars. Few clouds drift against it as a light wind brushes the moors, swaying their grasses in a slow, rippling dance representing that of the waves on the dark lake where the hills take a gentle incline to the sandy banks on the outskirts of WindClan territory. The air is cold and dry, however welcoming, and coats the moors in a dark blue-gray velvety blanket. Its tall grass shakes calmly as the moon reaches its peak in the very center of the swirling night sky that can only be described with one word: entrancing.

The entire world seems to have gone dead many years ago as all life rests peacefully under the solid earth, though the few and distant frogs rejoice quietly all night. Their cries break the silence eerily as they call out near RiverClan camp where the water laps at the banks calmly.

There is the slightest dip in the grassy, lush moors dotted with rocks as the midnight sky is dotted with stars where a rock juts out of a gentle hill and shallow abandoned badger nests rest. It seems abandoned, too, despite the dark lumps representing sleeping stones gather in small clusters around the camp and inside of the dens and bushes.

The pale figure of a cat with fur like a willow's leaves dangling freely in the wind and a long, flowing tail of a stream, quietly creeps out of a den lined with shrubs with bits of a gorse bush hanging down over it. The den smells like mint, it smells cold, it smells like nature, though the atmosphere inside of it is calming and warm, seeming to light itself up. The entire Clan is barren except for her.

Her eyes gleam for a moment, revealing their color of tansies and the dry grass of summertime, though only for half of a heartbeat. Without wasting another second, she crawls out and lets the breeze flush over her like a stream sifting through her long silver tabby fur, raising her eyes towards the night sky.

Her eyes hold worry, no doubt, but are hard, and her jaw is locked seriously. She lets her claws loose into the grass and pads over to the crevice in the earth behind the scraggly rock, peering in carefully. Even during the sunniest day, the inside of the den seems to be pitch-black.

Inside, there is a tabby, whose dark fur is barely able to be distinguished against the earth and dangling roots behind him, which is significantly darkened as the night sheds its blackness across the land. Its flanks heave in shallow, but strong, breaths, as it lays there silently. The cat examines him for a moment.

"Deerstar," the molly murmurs carefully, taking a cautious step forward as if he was a hungry badger who wouldn't be as happy if he was awakened. There is nothing- not a peep, no other unnecessary movements. She rolls her eyes in an exaggerated manner before leaning slowly downwards until her neck fur almost brushes his spine, placing a paw on his side. "Deerstar," she repeats, a tad louder, and impatiently waits his response with a flicking tail.

Finally, finally, he murmurs something in response, prompting the silver molly to plop down at the edge of his den, the camp leading out to the moors stretching out behind her. She licks her paw quiety and fixes her gaze on Deerstar expectantly, her gaze urgent though gentle. A sharp draft which disrupts the stillness of night and rattles every bush on WindClan territory cuts into the den, ruffling the molly's fur subtly as she internally retaliates from the sudden burst of cold.

"What do you need, Willowtail?" The tomcat's voice is rough from age, having been born long before the medicine cat. His brown muzzle is flecked with gray as he heaves his head upwards, staring at her through dull, yellow eyes. He doesn't bother turning around, instead craning his neck over his shoulder as the rest of his body faces away from the medicine cat.

Willowtail stares to the side for a moment before jerking her head upwards, signaling towards the open camp. "If you wouldn't mind, follow me," she meows, annoyance hinting in her tone as she stands up. Willowtail flicks a few miniscule pieces of dirt and root from her long pelt which she cares for dearly, her gaze burning into his fur. Awaiting a response, she nibbles between her paw pads attentively, ears perked.

After a few moments which the molly thinks too long, the leader lets out a groan and mutters some swears under his breath, long white whiskers twitching. As a young warrior, Deerstar had been known to be quite vulgar and unagreeable, though dangerous in battle, which most cats still suspect to be the cause for his leadership after knowing all too well that WindClan is always perceived as weak. Of course, they would have to prove the other Clans wrong. The cat drags himself upwards as if he were a puppet controlled by too few strings and stares at her with annoyance narrowing his dull eyes. He, too, flicks a few bits of soil from his tabby fur, coarse and short. "Shall we get going, then?" He asks her as Deerstar straightens himself up a bit.

Willowtail grins gently and nods, lifting herself up from sitting and, holding her tail high, turning around to stare out at the camp. It is oddly barren, for the medicine cat, similar to all other cats, wasn't out at night too much. It seems lifeless and uneasiness wiggles through her fur for a moment as she constantly tries to shove it to the corner of her mind.

She finally trudges out of the dark den, the slightly larger figure of Deerstar following her a few mouse-lengths behind, drowsiness trying to hold down his paws like sticky tar. She lets the night breeze ruffle her fur once again, feeling an odd emptiness surrounding her. For a moment, she finds herself staring at the fresh kill pile longingly where a lifeless rabbit is draped across the gap between two stones, realizing that she hasn't eaten since sunhigh at most; she frowns before fixating her attention on something else. Willowtail looks over her shoulder to make sure the old leader hadn't collapsed and continues on, her trudge starting to grow brisk. For a moment, annoyance sparks in her tail- _why can't he just walk next to me? He's acting like a kit, over exaggerating like this._

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the brown-and-white lump of Fallenleaf in the elder's den, sleeping soundly as she always does. Her offspring, Starlingflight and Blackwing, are sleeping not too far off from her mother, laying in a small patch of grass where sprigs of taller grass shoot up. They don't do much to conceal them from the hollow cold, however, since most warriors are forced to sleep outside, most of the younger ones must choose a more difficult sleeping space. There are others, too, such as Larkflight sleeping on the other side of the Tallrock, her brown fur looking more gray in the darkness. Willowtail can barely make out the two mates, Doeheart and Heathertuft, whose bodies were intertwine with each other. For a heartbeat, she remembers being apprentices with Doeheart- Doepaw at the time- fussing over what she hoped would be her future mate. Doepaw had been convinced that the molly that she had a crush on since Dawntail, a warrior slightly older than her, had graduated from her apprenticeship, wasn't interested. A pang of nostalgia pricks at her heart. _Well, look at where you are now._

Realizing her mental tangent, Willowtail nods towards the exit of the camp and Deerstar flicks his thin tail in acknowledgement before they finally head onto the grassy moors that stretch for what seems like miles, though a river eventually cuts through the territory and the mighty oaks of ThunderClan territory burst up through the ground on the other side. She shivers, though her movements subtle to any other cat. Willowtail feels the grass crumple beneath her pawpaws, slick with dew and frost that gently warns the cats of the upcoming Leafbare; it wasn't even Leaf-Fall yet, but nature seems to find its own way of trying to prepare the cats for what they assume would be an unrelenting winter. The scent of greenleaf reaches her nose, bringing on a bit of melancholy from when Willowtail was a warrior apprentice.

She stops for a second and cranes her neck upwards in hopes of assuring that the pair is going the right direction, then scans her surroundings. Dead thistles hide behind lush sedge and a small copse of around three oak trees is present in the distance, beckoning over Willowtail with the offer of reaching their destination. The closer they would pad towards the copse, the closer they'd get to the perch near the ThunderClan border river, which Willowtail finds annoying, but brushes off. It isn't as calm as the lake and clatters sharply against the rocks. However, most cats view it differently- they usually say that it sounds like the stream is singing.

She huffs and pads up a hill, staring down at Deerstar. There is a sharp incline from where they stand that leads to flat land for around a treelength, reaching its lowest point where a small rock juts out from the earth.

She motions towards the stone and Deerstar nods, staring down the drop, which wasn't much larger than a short fall. However, the fall does shock your legs for a moment; the feeling quickly subsides and you keep on living life. Willowtail leaps down skillfully and stares up at Deerstar, who follows without grace. The distance they have to jump is around as tall as a taller-than-usual gorse bush.

Without skipping a heartbeat, Willowtail continues walking with Deerstar at her side. Silence radiates between the two and the uncomfortableness sets itself deep into Willowtail's bones. _Why would I even want to talk with him, anyway? He's an ancient cat with bees in his brain._ She finds herself at the base of the rock.

The silver tabby slips up as quickly as a stream would find its way down rumbling stones and looks back towards Deerstar, who approaches at her side.

The moon stares down at them with cold light as the stars make way for it, devoid of any other pricks of light in the sky. It sits there alone as Deerstar and Willowtail do. They're alone. Alone, alone, alone, and the night's hollow air can't help but emphasize it as the breeze suddenly drops and the spiky gorse bushes sprouting out near the rock stop swaying.

Silence claws at Willowtail's fur. Think of something. "Deerstar, I brought you here because I had a vision."

The leader perks up in interest, his eyes rounding slightly as his tabby fur seems to illuminate under the moon's cutting blue light. "Please," he meows in interest, "go on."

Willowtail swallows and nods, unsure of how to describe it. "StarClan warned me of a flock of crows," she informs him simply. So simply that she shuffles and licks her soft chest fur, realigning her position. "It wasn't that significant, but I could see it. I woke up in the moors, near the river, where sand lightly coats the pebbles. It's near the ThunderClan border- you probably know that already. There were claw marks on the ground and blood stains. That's when I looked up and saw a flock of crows," Willowtail clarifies, trailing off slightly.

Deerstar grumbles something like "Damn StarClan, always sending us unwanted battles and prophecies. Spare us a few moments of calm, will you?" and looks at her and dips his head solemnly. "I see; there must be a battle coming soon. Hopefully not too soon- luckily, Mistcloud is going to have Moorpelt's kits soon enough."

Willowtail nods quietly as silence splits through the air like a pair of sharp claws. The only sounds to be heard are the singing river in the far distance and the breeze slightly picking up again, chilling her to the bones, as if she had been dipped in freezing water. Water as cold as when the lake freezes over and you plunge in suddenly. A quiet bout of chaos stemming from Willowtail.

She exhales a cloud of mist out in front of her, ears pricking at Deerstar's meow. Willowtail fixes her attention on the tabby.

"What's so significant about the crows, Willowtail?" he asks, his eyes staring absently out onto the rolling moors.

Willowtail scoffs and licks her shoulder. "Do you know what a flock of crows is called?"

Deerstar blinks. "No."

"It's called a murder."

 **Sounds cliche, right? _Really_ cliche, to be honest, but trust me, this won't be what you expect.**


	2. allegiances

WindClan

 _LEADER_ : **D** EERSTAR - Old tall light brown bicolor mackerel tabby tom with copper eyes.

 _DEPUTY_ : **L** ARKFLIGHT - Tall, almost solid-brown molly with sharp yellow eyes.

 _MEDICINE CAT_ : **W** ILLOWTAIL - Small, long-furred silver classic tabby molly with gentle green-yellow eyes.

 __WARRIORS__

 **B** LACKWING - Solid black tom with with amber eyes and a white underbelly and chest.

 **S** TARLINGFLIGHT - Black molly with a dash of white on her chest and amber eyes.

 **S** MOKEFANG - Long-furred dark gray classic tabby tom with yellow eyes.

 **D** OEHEART - Small lilac classic tabby molly with bright green eyes and a white muzzle, throat, and belly.

 **D** AWNTAIL - Light ginger mackerel tabby molly with white toes and yellow eyes.

 **F** OGTUFT - Long-furred solid light gray tom with dull yellow eyes.

 **M** OORPELT - Dull lilac classic tabby tom with gray-green eyes.

 **G** ORSEFEATHER - Small bicolor brown classic tabby molly with yellow eyes.

 **H** EATHERTUFT - Gray mackerel tabby molly with soft copper eyes.

 **H** AWKFEATHER - Gray bicolor mackerel tabby tom with hard amber eyes.

 **H** AREFOOT - White tom with patches of brown mackerel tabby and yellow eyes.

 **H** OLLYSTEM - Dark gray, almost black, molly with hazel eyes.

 **T** HORNCLOUD - Small tawny mackerel tabby tom with yellow eyes.

 **S** NOWPAD - Long-furred white cat with green-yellow eyes. [they/them]

 **F** EATHERPOOL - A large tuxedo molly with icy blue eyes.

 **S** EDGENOSE - Solid-black tomcat with copper eyes and a long tail.

 __APPRENTICES__

 **B** RAMBLEPAW - Small brown clouded tabby tom with light yellow eyes. (Mentor is Doeheart)

 **R** ABBITPAW - Dark brown mackerel tabby molly with a white muzzle and locket. (Mentor is Thorncloud)

 **M** ILKPAW - Pure-white, long-furred molly with yellow eyes. (Mentor is Heathernose)

 **C** ROWPAW - Lean black tom with hard copper eyes. (Mentor is Hollystem)

 **N** IGHTPAW - Tall tuxedo molly with blue eyes. (Mentor is Starlingflight)

 **P** ALEPAW - Pale golden-and-white tom with orange eyes. (Mentor is Larkflight)

 __QUEENS__

 **M** ISTCLOUD (mate to Moorpelt) - Long-furred dull gray classic tabby molly with a round face and green eyes. (Expecting)

 __ELDERS_  
_

 **F** ALLENLEAF - White molly with brown splotches and green eyes.

* _I am only listing WindClan for now, for it is generally the only Clan that we'll see in this fanfic. If I happen to introduce any other Clans, then I will describe the cats in the writing._


	3. chapter 01

The sky above is starting to reawaken as the thick smell of rain rises in clouds from the slick grass and puddles lingering around the camp that is washed over in a hue of gray. The stars fade, but don't lose their vibrance, as clouds drift across the sky as sailboats would drift across the sea. They come in hues of gray, pink, and peach and sail towards the illuminating eastern sky. The sun's scraps of light start to litter the sky and eradicate each and every star into a bleeding shade of pink as the moon escapes on the opposite horizon.

Rainclouds clog up most of the sky and leave dismal and cold drafts of wind to wander across the moor and cut through the branches of wet oak trees and chilly sedges, making their appearance by dancing across the lake in rippling waves. Birds beckon the sun further up towards the horizon and start to float through the sky, dipping and swirling like a loose ribbon in the wind.

Calm sweeps across the moors, the forests, the rivers, and rests a blanket of cold utop the land that embraces the territories quietly. The once shriveled flowers of night gratefully welcome the coming of dawn and start to glow as the dew on their petals and stems rests contentedly.

Crowpaw opens his heavy eyes feebly and feels the weight of drowsiness sit on his shoulders and sweep him underwater. It whispers urges of sleep into his ears, however the excitement of the past day sparks up in his belly and jolts electricity through his veins.

He turns his head to find that Nightpaw is still resting and feels a warmth spread through his fur as he watches his sister sleep without a peep. His paws fidget in the moss nest, barely affected by the rain that pelted the territories the past night, however growing cold. He shuffles, realizing the cold slicing through his skin is drifting freely through the air, not exclusively around him. Outside ought to be a much harsher environment without the shared heat of the apprentices circulating around the den. The prospect of colder temperatures almost distinguishes his urge to leave the nest, but rebelling against his thoughts, Crowpaw stands.

His pads still use the last of the warmth in the nest and he makes sure to savor it before stepping out. _This isn't nearly as bad as I thought!_ Crowpaw thinks, peering around to assure that no cat had watched the stupid apprentice shamble out of his nest as if he expected for the grass to be lava.

He steps out and accepts the sudden burst of wind sifting through his fur as a light drizzle strokes the land. Crowpaw sneezes, feeling one of the weak raindrops tickle his nose and whiskers, feeling a bit of amusement surge up underneath his fur. Rain is truly mesmerizing to the young cat; as a kit, almost eight moons ago, he longed to go out and feel the water seep through his fur. The cold would lap at his fur like the waves in a stream, but he learned to love it, for the sensation of rain was enough. Neither Willowtail nor his mother, Featherpool, would condone such a small kit going out in the rain, even more so alone and out of camp.

He shivers and steps out further, feeling an unusual annoyance spark in the tip of his tail as he realizes that greenleaf is supposed to be _sunny_ , and leaf-bare should have passed after weighing down on the land. Crowpaw surveys his surroundings momentarily, though the appearance of Willowtail sitting in her den, fumbling aimlessly with herbs catches his attention. Of course, it's odd to be entranced by the medicine cat sorting through her herbs as usual; however, he notices something off. Something he can't put his paw on, but it gnaws at his shoulders regardless.

 _Her expression._ Willowtail is wearing one of odd happiness as if she was a new apprentice beaming on their first day of being six moons old. Her paws shuffle with frosted berries and minty-green leaves impatiently as she smiles, seemingly at nothing, as excitement lights up her eyes. Normally, Crowpaw wouldn't consider his any of his business- it's Willowtail's life and all.

The odd expression carved into her face sets uneasiness on Crowpaw's spine. She usually portrays herself as impatient and witty, always washing her fur and sitting up straight. She likes everything _perfect_ , her herbs, her den, even the cats _around_ her, so much so that she'll call out an apprentice or kit on eating too loudly. Her claws are unsheathed as she picks through the leaves and a mixture of neutral hatred swirls in Crowpaw's belly.

It's not like she knows her all too well, nor does he dislike her, but he always feels a mutual tension between them whenever they sit too close or too far away. The tone she uses, the usual impatient calling from the medicine cat's den, and the way she is too quick to change topics always makes Crowpaw steer clear of any obstacles that could pose the cause of a possible injury.

 _Willowtail's always been weird,_ Crowpaw thinks. _Don't let her bother you too much or else she'll notice you and demand why you're staring._

Behind him, Crowpaw hears a loud yawn and shuffling of leaves. He laps at his fur quickly, trying to rid it of too much cold, and turns around. He, too, yawns, and stares into the apprentice's den where Nightpaw appears.

Her tuxedo coat is oddly short and sleek, seeming to stick to her skin at all times. She visibly shivers and grins at Crowpaw, taking a hesitant step out of the den before trotting towards him.

Crowpaw murmurs a greeting and licks his sister's cheek affectionately. "Why are you up so early?" he asks, amusement lighting up his tone. "You're usually the one that has to be dragged out of the den by Starlingflight."

Nightpaw purrs in amusement and sits down next to him, leaning into his wet pelt. "I'm not sure," she murmurs in response, adding, "Sometimes I just like to watch the sunrise whenever I wake up too early."

Crowpaw nods in understanding as the drizzle starts to grow into a shower and stares towards the eastern horizon, shaking out his pelt before staring back at her, cracking a grin. "Today's our last day as apprentices," he meows, a confused mix of sadness, nostalgia, and anticipation flowing out of his words. "Maybe we should watch the last sunset of apprenticehood."

Nightpaw shuffles her paws in the grass that is coated in dew as the air starts to grow colder. "It's just so cold out," she grumbles.

"I thought you wanted to see the rising sun!" Crowpaw exclaims playfully. "This could be our last chance of seeing it as apprentices."

Nightpaw hums in response, staring at the open moors dreamily. "You do make a point, I guess. But if it rains too hard," she meows, taking a pause to stand up assertively, "then I'll be back in the den quicker than you can say the word _mouse_!"

Crowpaw giggles and flicks a drop of water off of his ear, staring towards a small copse not too far from camp. "We won't be out there too long, anyways," he murmurs. "Neither Hollystem or Starlingflight would let us just sit there like that."

Nightpaw grins at him and her figure reminds him of Featherpool immensely. _Where would we be now without Featherpool or Sedgenose?_ He muses. _Imagine how hard life must be for cats like Palepaw, not being able to see either of his parents. Maybe we'd be as uptight as he is, or we'd just be normal apprentices. Maybe Nightpaw would be colder and I'd be more friendly. Who knows._

"Did you hear me, or are you off dreaming again?" Nightpaw meows, moving her muzzle closer to his ear. "We should go get fresh kill," she continues, pronouncing every syllable specifically.

Crowpaw rolls his eyes, feeling hunger slowly dig at and hollow out his belly. "Yeah, sure," he responds, turning and staring at the fresh-kill pile.

The rising chatter signals that most of the apprentice's den is awake and he can distinctly hear Palepaw's voice as he and Milkpaw, whose competitiveness rivals each other. Milkpaw points out something about her being the fastest runner on the moor, but Palepaw contradicts as he sneers that at least _he_ didn't eat his prey during a hunting patrol. Crowpaw, as always, tries to ignore them, for they always stick together but it seems solely for the sake of arguing. _Maybe their competitiveness matches one another_ , he decides quietly, though he knows that the excuse he made up is so much more shallow than exactly _why_ they always challenge each other.

"I can get it," Nightpaw meows as she shivers, brushing against her brother's pelt one more time before trudging off towards the pile. Crowpaw watches calmly and can't help but giggle when she lets out a yowl of surprise as she looks down at the prey. _I forgot. It must be soaking wet right now._

"It's too _weeeet_!" Nightpaw calls to him, her voice rising in a kit-like whine. She stares back at him, annoyance sparking up in her calm blue eyes. By now, the amount of rain that had been falling had made both of their pelts wet already, as if they had taken an unwanted dip into the lake. It softens and its soothing song starts to quiet down as the sun's light finally starts to make an appearance past the horizon, spilling out from the sky onto the rolling moors below, washing them in spots of golden light.

"Nightpaw, we could miss the sunrise!" Crowpaw responds with urgency edging his mew. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Larkflight stand up and stretch, along with Mistcloud peeking her head out of the nursery. _Great. Now we've woken up grump-o and Mistcloud._

Nightpaw seems to notice it too, for she swoops up a damp rabbit from the bottom of the fresh-kill pile and looks at Crowpaw for a moment. She trots over hurriedly and glances at Larkflight, dipping her head subtly in greetings and apology before staring at her brother in the eyes.

"You mentioned that we should head towards the copse, right?" she asks, voice muffled through the dull brown rabbit that dangles from her jaws. "I think it'll be too late if we go over there. The sun is already starting to rise."

Crowpaw huffs, disappointment strong in his limbs as he turns around and murmurs, "Guess so." For a moment, he finds himself staring out of camp where it makes a stiff uphill to the highest point bordering camp in between the apprentice's and medicine cat's den. He nods his head upwards sharply and glances at her. "We could watch it from over there," he meows and watches her stiffly nod in agreement.

Nightpaw is the first to start walking and Crowpaw trails after her calmly until they reach the slope, not too far from where they were talking. A sudden voice that breaks the silence makes Crowpaw's stomach leap for a moment and whirl around to catch Willowtail, her eyes sagging with drowsiness, a step out of her den.

"And where do you think you're going?" she asks assertively, straightening herself up and pausing to groom her fur. "You're making such a racket that you ought to be waking up the cats in ShadowClan by now!"

The hardness of her words makes Crowpaw stand stiff and look at Nightpaw, who was known for her calm attitude around really every cat. How Nightpaw can speak such smooth, well-meaning words and communicate with the slightest shift in stance is otherworldly to Crowpaw.

Nightpaw dips her head slowly in greeting and narrows her eyes calmly. "Crowpaw and I are going to watch the sunrise," she informs her with a neutral, almost passive-aggressive tone, "I'm truly sorry about making such a racket. Thanks, Willowtail, we'll be more quiet now."

Willowtail stares at her for a long moment more and hardly rolls her eyes, letting out a hum of acknowledgement before staring off, almost lost in thought. _She's probably thinking about another thing to bug us about._

Now, Crowpaw often exaggerates about Willowtail. Yes, they do have a mutual tension, but he refuses to accept that she is simply looking out for cats as Mistcloud or Heathertuft usually point out. Sometimes she is the most annoying cat in the _world_ , in his opinion at least, but he can see her caring nature shine through her at times. _Maybe she's just trying to keep us safe in her own weird way. She even yowls at Deerstar sometimes._

Shaking out his pelt and nodding in agreement with Nightpaw, he continues up the small slope, feeling the wet grass chill his pawpads and travel up his bones.

By now, Nightpaw is already sitting atop the hill, taking her first careful bite into the rabbit as she stares off at the sunrise coming closer by the second. He quickens his pace as the cold burrows into his skin, making him uncomfortably aware as the drizzle eventually dies down and leaves peace behind it. He takes in the fresh, clear smell of rain and greenleaf, smiling softly.

Sitting beside Nightpaw, he wordlessly stares off at the horizon, the silence rifling through both of the cat's fur. The sun is finally, barely visible, the very top of it staring to make its appearance over the moors that roll as the waves in a river do. It casts newfound, shimmering light across the land and ripples across the lake's glasslike surface. It nestles itself into trees and shines across the hills as it slowly embraces the world in light.

Words are no longer nessecary as Crowpaw leans down next to his sister and pulls off a string of meat from the rabbit's flank and chews slowly, feeling drowsiness starting to stroke his fur again. He yawns and nudges Nightpaw quietly, feeling faux warmth spread throughout his veins, though his skin is undoubtedly soaked in unforgiving water. As the rain on his fur starts to slowly dry, it leaves behind an uncomfortable, almost itchy feeling with it.

Nightpaw opens her muzzle for a second, but snaps it shut the next and glances over at Crowpaw, then to the rising sun. She exhales a cloud of mist into the morning air. "Rabbitpaw's told me that Willowtail has been acting odd around her lately."

At the mentioning of Rabbitpaw's name again, Crowpaw bites back the short-lived urge to complain about how much his sister speaks of her crush. It quickly piques his interest, and he gazes at her, nodding. "How so?" He asks, closing his eyes and taking another bite.

Nightpaw shrugs. "I dunno," she meows, "But she said that Willowtail has been looking at her a lot lately. I wouldn't know why she feels uncomfortable about it, especially since Willowtail can be so nice."

 _So nice?_ Crowpaw shudders. _No, she's weird._ He huffs. "Well, maybe… uh," he begins, finding no explanation. "Willowtail is a bit quirky sometimes, I guess. Maybe she wants her to be her apprentice, or something."

"Her _apprentice?_ No way," Nightpaw gasps in an exaggerated manner, nudging Crowpaw in the shoulder. "She better know by now that Rabbitpaw isn't at all interested in that."

"Anyways," he starts, eyes lighting up at the chance of a new story for Nightpaw to relate to, "earlier this morning, I saw Willowtail smiling at the ground. I just thought it was weird."

Nightpaw shifts herself and lays on her side, letting the new sunshine spill itself onto her pelt. "Maybe you were just tired," she murmurs. "That's usually the weird, small stuff that we see out of the corner of our eye."

Crowpaw nods, understanding flashing in his gaze. _I was probably just seeing it. I've never woken up before dawn before._

"Anyways," Nightpaw murmurs, drawing out the word, "The sun's almost completely up."

Crowpaw nods and nuzzles her side. Nightpaw curls her tail around him as they both watch it shed its light across the sky, turning it hues of blue, orange, and pink in a beautiful frenzy of colors. "I can't believe we're going to be warriors today," he murmurs absently. "It still seems so far away."

"I know, right?" Nightpaw agrees dreamily. "We used to look at Blackwing and Starlingflight when we were first apprentices and think about how much older and experienced they are," she murmurs. "But look at us now."

Crowpaw purrs and presses against his sister, feeling happiness warm up his body. By now, many of the cats of WindClan had awakened, and he is able to hear Palepaw chattering loudly to Larkflight as they make their way out of camp to train. Milkpaw, Bramblepaw, and Rabbitpaw are also making a racket as the young apprentices practice their newly-learned battle moves on each other. _I wonder if they think as highly of us as we once did to the warriors now,_ he muses as the sun finally appears completely above the horizon, its bountiful light pooling down onto the awakening Clan as Deerstar scrambles to assign cats to lead patrols.

"That'll be our last sunrise as apprentices," Nightpaw meows with bright eyes.

Crowpaw nods quietly. "I wonder what our warrior names will be," he meows, taking a moment to think- one not too long to give Nightpaw the chance to speak her endless list of names first, but long enough for himself to come up with a couple cool ones- "I hope I get something like Crowwatcher or Crowfang."

"I want to be Nightpool, or Nightbreeze. Maybe Nightstorm, or Nightfeather, and eventually Nightstar," Nightpaw pipes up, her meow a kit-like squeal. _No cat suspects her to be this immature_ , Crowpaw thinks as a purr rumbles in his throat.

"Being leader seems _so_ stressful to me," he points out to no response, as Nightpaw was distracted by Starlingflight calling their names.

"I'm coming, Starlingflight!" She calls, and glancing at her brother, adds, "we've already passed our assessment, why would we need to train any more than this?"

"Yeah, I know, right?" Crowpaw adds in a hushed voice, standing up and curling his tail. "It's good that Starlingflight found us first before Hollystem could have the chance to find me. She never likes me stepping too out of line," he meows. _She means well, and at least she doesn't have to be on the move every heartbeat like Starlingflight._

"Oh, you know she's not that bad," Nightpaw meows teasingly, poking at his shoulder with a soft smile. The two apprentices trail down the slope and Crowpaw leaves the remains of the half-eaten rabbit there, figuring that he'd blame it on Milkpaw or Palepaw.

Almost on cue, he spots Hollystem clamber out of her den, her long black fur sticking out every which way. She, too, glances at him and, smoothing down her fur with quick laps, trots over to him.

"No need to train today," Hollystem yawns. "You've already passed your assessment, but it would be nice if you volunteer for one of Larkflight's hunting patrols once she gets back with Palepaw."

Crowpaw nods and stares towards the horizon for another moment before staring back at Hollystem. "I think I'll go out anyways, maybe try to catch a rabbit or two," he decides, stretching out.

"I might join you later," Hollystem mews.

Crowpaw nods and purrs loudly, realizing that he had completely forgotten to greet Sedgenose and Featherpool. He searches the camp, and with a small, affectionate purr, he races over to Sedgenose. He greets him warmly and washes the rain from his coat as Featherpool lounges aside a gorse bush, chatting absently with Harefoot.

Crowpaw greets her and Harefoot with a smile, and they respond warmly. Crowpaw breaks away from Sedgenose and nudges his mother, excitement shimmering in his eyes.

"I can't wait to be a warrior," he announces to her randomly.

Featherpool nods and grins up at him almost absently. "Good," she meows and looks back towards Harefoot. She usually doesn't interact with Crowpaw too much, but he's learned to brush it off by now.

Crowpaw smiles. _I really, really can't wait._

 **wOOpsy-doo, I wrote six pages of this. I know this is moving slowly, but it's good to get to know the characters, especially because of what's going to happen in chapter 1.2 or 2. What do you think their warrior names will be?**


	4. chapter 01 (and a half)

Crowpaw stares at the cluster of heather just two fox-lengths away from him, paws planted stiffly in the grass and barely controlling the flicking of his tail-tip. By now, the sun had climbed much higher into the sky and turned it a pale blue that stares down on the moors with a smile; there are no rain clouds, though the damp grass and mud states differently. The decaying rainwater from dawn starts to annoy the ground and grass, leaving it itchy and uncomfortably damp. Inhaling sharply, Crowpaw narrows his eyes and slinks forward at the speed of a snake striking- his figure is collected, though his mind is frantic as he tries to estimate the point where the sparrow would be. Its scent lingers strongly in the air and it rustles the bush occasionally, making the anticipation for the catch grow stronger in Crowpaw.

Without another heartbeat wasted, he launches himself off of the ground and stares directly where he can see the brown and white feathered body before crashing into the heather. He splutters and, letting out a yowl of frustration, finds his claws empty of any prey, his sleek black pelt littered with the debris of heather. Crowpaw stares back towards camp, tail lashing irritably like a fish gliding through a river. _Why even try?_ He figures stubbornly, flicking the pieces of pastel petals off of his fur.

Sniffing, Crowpaw starts to groom his fur down in hurried, but thorough, licks. He tries to console himself with the tantalizing idea of finally getting his warrior name. By now, however, the thought had been worn down after trying so hard to keep his blood rushing with excitement throughout the so far tedious day.

He exhales in a huff and stands up, gratefully letting the greenleaf breeze tickle his whiskers and stroke his fur. He can barely see camp from where he stands, the only thing significantly visible being the Tallrock looming over the dip in the grassy moors. The nearby scent of a patrol consisting of what he thinks to be Smokefang, Dawntail, Moorpelt, Bramblepaw, and Hollystem wafts his way through the wind.

Crowpaw surveys his surroundings and catches the light tabby pelts of Moorpelt and Bramblepaw disappearing over the hill, nearing the lake. For a moment, dread catches in his belly as he remembers how much he positively _hated_ having to be forced into border patrols, especially if it included Larkflight or any cat with similar traits. Sometimes, he figures that he is too judgemental on the cats like Larkflight or Willowtail because they don't perfectly reflect he or Nightpaw's personalities.

With a huff, Crowpaw starts to pad back to camp, letting the sun groom his fur and eventually warm him up as the scent of a fresh, leafy greenleaf lingers in the rippling air. His heart lunges then sinks as he catches a rabbit speed back into its burrow in the corner of his eye, the aforementioned disappointment tugging on his fur. _Maybe I can chat with Nightpaw, if she's back from training yet,_ the muses, staring down at the bright grass that he trudges lightly on. Crowpaw almost stumbles over a dark brown rock jutting unevenly out of the ground, along with a few sudden dips; other than that, his walk back to camp goes smoothly.

Crowpaw sits down, unbalanced, at the edge of camp and scratches vigorously at his ear as he catches Deerstar sharing tongues with Larkflight. In the corner of camp, Willowtail kneads at Mistcloud's huge belly that ought to produce her and Moorpelt's kits soon enough. Heathertuft and Doeheart laugh together with Snowpad near the fresh-kill pile, a scrap of what Crowpaw suspects to have once been a robin at Doeheart's pale and Rabbitpaw good-naturedly tussle in camp for a while before Willowtail calls them out irritably from the shade of the medicine cat's den, making their ears lower in hot embarrassment. It seems that almost every cat is present in camp other than the patrol that he had spotted earlier; however, the lack of Nightpaw puts disappointment on his shoulders.

The sun starts to beat down on his back with sharp claws until Crowpaw decides to saunter into the sunny dip, shaking his fur. He glances towards Thorncloud and Dawntail sharing tongues affectionately, then towards the patrol entering camp behind him.

Hollystem's long, black fur gleams in the sunlight as the trots for Crowpaw with a small, dusty-white rabbit hanging lifelessly from her maw. She dips her head curtly in greeting as she slips by him and approaches Snowpad, Heathertuft, and Doeheart. She purrs towards them and flings the rabbit utop all of the other prey. Luckily, this greenleaf had been merciful towards the four Clans, and shows obviously though the ample pile of prey.

Hollystem stares back at Crowpaw for a moment before nodding in a quick farewell, grooming her fur for a moment. She approaches him and greets him warmly; Crowpaw, of course, responds in the same manner.

Before she can start any other conversation or leave, Crowpaw asks, "Hollystem, do you have any idea when I will have my warrior ceremony?"

He puts on a faux tone of maturity into his tone as he speaks before bending down to nibble at his paw.

"I think that Deerstar said you'd have it at- I mean, around sunhigh," she informs him simply, her gaze warm. Hollystem takes a small step closer to him as he lifts his head and beams. The sun overhead is slowly approaching the middle of the sky, vanquishing the uncomfortable dampness from the territory. For a rare moment, Hollystem stares at him in a motherly fashion, the pride seeming to seep from her fur out into the air. "You know, Crowpaw," she begins before staring towards the Tallrock for a moment, shuffling herself down into the pale grass and laying in front of him, "I'm really proud of you. At first, I thought you'd be two pawfuls to train, but you're very skilled. You're great in tracking," she meows warmly with a well-meaning grin on her face, before adding in a lower voice, "Unlike I was."

Crowpaw beams and feels pride flow freely underneath his skin, purring and leaning forward to nuzzle her ear.

"I know I was pretty hard on you, especially about standing up straight and waking up early and, well, _insignificant_ things like that, but it was all me training you to be a great warrior like you will be today."

The words latch onto his fur and nuzzle up against him like a mother's touch and Crowpaw purrs gratefully. "Thank you so much, Hollystem." For a moment, he wants to add that he _knew_ that she was doing the best for him throughout all of his complaining within his first four moons of being trained under her. He keeps his mouth shut anyways, figuring that he'd let himself gush about the gratefulness he holds for her the next morning after his vigil.

For a moment, he ponders about how quickly a strict mentor-apprentice relationship can sprout into a friendship likely to last a lifetime. On his first day as an apprentice when Hollystem's name was called, her cold stance make a chilly sensation weigh down in his belly. He had heard that she and Weaselfang, a warrior now passed, were in the running for deputy, and would have probably already figured that out without being told directly due to her always-assertive stance and serious, unwavering gaze. When Nightpaw was first apprenticed, Crowpaw would always find himself in the grips of envy, not only because of how young a warrior she had received as a mentor, but also how openly friendly she was to most, even though Starlingflight seemed to always be on her paws. Never did he once expect that Crowpaw would consider Hollystem an old, close friend.

Crowpaw grins widely at her and stands up, flicking bits of grass off of his pelt, eyeing the fresh-kill pile as the sun above slowly reaches the middle of the blue, blue sky.

Hollystem, too, stands, and turns in another direction. "I'll see you when you're a warrior," she calls before trotting off to Thorncloud and Dawntail. Crowpaw gazes at her leave for a moment, realizing with a prick of anxiety on his pelt that Nightpaw still hadn't yet returned to camp. _Does she even know that we'll get our names at Sunhigh?_

He exhales shakily, shuffling his paws as the sparks of anxiety buzz inside of his belly. _She'll be here eventually. Why are you even fretting? Nightpaw isn't on the other side of the world or anything._ His chastising thoughts do little to console his heart, racing from both the dizzy mixture of anxiety and anticipation as the time to become a warrior of WindClan nears and him being without Nightpaw.

He huffs as bile starts to swirl and harden in his stomach and rise up into his mouth, seeming to cut off all air. Crowpaw starts to pace, and at seeing the fresh-kill pile, hurriedly trots over, figuring that eating a nice peice of prey would ease his worries.

His paws shuffling through the grass below, Crowpaw stares into the widely varied pile of prey, stiffly leaning down to pick up a fat vole. In the back of his mind, he silently chastises himself for taking a large piece of prey that would likely serve a meal to a more deserving cat; however, he tries to muffle the thought and pick it up by the back anyways as its beady eyes stare downwards. Crowpaw's huff is blocked by the vole as he pads shakily over to a gorse bush next to the empty nursery. Apparently, Mistcloud is still letting Willowtail mess with her a bit longer, and rightfully so, for her kits ought to be born soon enough.

He stretches his muzzle out into a yawn after carefully placing down the prey, staring absently towards the entrance to camp as he pulls off the skin on its flank. Moorpelt pads by him and flashes Crowpaw a glance, murmuring a short congratulations that hardly resonates the warmth that Hollystem had recently demonstrated. He watches the tabby pad on light paws towards the medicine den where Mistcloud calls for him, saying something about two kits. _Only two?_ Crowpaw thinks, leaning down to take another bite of the vole, _Maybe Thorncloud and Dawntail will have a litter one day to even out the amount of kits._

Suddenly, a shocking pressure slams into Crowpaw's side, making him let out a hoarse meow of surprise before whirling around to see Nightpaw standing next to his unharmed vole, smiling ear-to-ear. The frustration is quickly replaced by a light sense of excitement as Crowpaw purrs loudly, getting to his paws, exclaiming, "You scared me out of my pelt!"

Nightpaw grins slyly, her usually sleek fur sticking out in different directions. "You can be so sensitive, Crowpaw," she teases, nudging him in a sharp movement.

Crowpaw rolls his eyes and sniffs good-naturedly. "What have you been doing? You look like you fell into a nest of brambles," he comments before grooming down his fur and gazing towards his hardly-eaten piece of prey longingly.

Nightpaw rolls her eyes and lets out a long, exaggerated groan. "Starlingflight insisted that I had to perfect my agility and stealth after she made me recite WindClan's history," she meows before sitting down and self-consciously grooming her black-and-white fur.

"Ugh, I hated having to learn about our history," he murmurs before shuffling closer and taking a large bite out of the vole before giggling slightly. "I can't believe that Starlingflight had the nerve to actually make you go through that again."

Nightpaw flicks her ear in agreement, licking down the final patch of untamed fur on her pelt. She carefully pulls out a small twig and spits it out onto the grass, nose scrunched up in subtle disgust. "I guess it's for the best to live up to WindClan's spiritual culture," she mutters. "Besides, we're basically _known_ for how well we're able to run."

"It's not like we'll be using our history in battle, or anything," Crowpaw retorts before swooping down to take another quick bite out of his vole. As soon as he looks to the sky, he notices that the gleaming sun had now reached the middle, spilling its bright light down onto WindClan camp, warming up the territories gracefully, and his eyes gleam. "Nightpaw!" He suddenly yelps, barely containing his giddiness, "It's sunhigh!"

Nightpaw eyes him as if he had just sprouted wings before stealing a bite out of his vole. "Yeah, and so what? Are we getting our warrior name soon?" She asks, her tone slowly lifting into excitement as she continues to speak.

Crowpaw nods vigorously. "Hollystem told me earlier that we'll have our ceremony at sunhigh!" He squeals before standing up and staring towards the Tallrock, a fire igniting in his belly as he spots Deerstar shamble out of his shady den towards Larkflight and Starlingflight, their fur gleaming as the sun pools down onto the moors. " _Look!"_

Nightpaw scrambles to stand next to him, bouncing up and down like a kit, barely keeping her composure. She emits a squeal of happiness and leans into his fur, whiskers twitching in untamed excitement. "I can't believe it," she breathes.

Crowpaw nods simply in response, feeling anxiety start to gnaw at his belly as he watches Deerstar slip up Tallrock, his figure noble as he sits down and stares across the Clan. He feels Nightpaw nuzzle his cheek roughly as the leader calls out the sacred, however common, words of gathering; "Let all cats old enough to run the moor gather under Tallrock for a meeting!"

The entire world seems to be speeding past him as Nightpaw lets out a squeal and they both run towards the Tallrock, worn-out pawpads being warmed by the greenleaf grass. Birdsong is distant and barely floats through the sky, leaving the entire world silent to listen to their warrior ceremony. To let their pride resonate around the moors, to let their names ring throughout the territories like a storm.

Cats swarm around the Tallrock, usually shooting the two apprentices- no, _warriors_ , if that'd fit by now- warm looks. Hollystem roughly nudges Crowpaw as she passes by, sending him a friendly, almost teasing wink as she sits just ahead of he and Nightpaw. Deerstar's dull gaze sweeps the gathering crowd, their quiet chatter raising to the sky.

Crowpaw can't help but feel a bursting pride in his chest as he grooms down his fur one last time, gazing at Nightpaw. Her eyes are huge with wonder and excitement, though she sits calmly, like a still lake. A hoarse voice suddenly cuts through the silence like a pair of claws as Deerstar shimmies closer to the edge of Tallrock.

"Today, we have two apprentices-" Crowpaw notices that almost every cat's eyes focus on him and his sister- "Nightpaw and Crowpaw, who have trained hard and deserve their warrior name."

"Nightpaw, please step up," he commands, and Nightpaw does so, taking a prideful step in front of the crowd, under her leader's gaze as she stands tall.

"I, Deerstar, leader of WindClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in turn. Nightpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

For a moment, Nightpaw stays in silent shock, as if the scene before her is so surreal that she can't take it. "I do," she responds in a prideful tone, standing taller as the sun's light drips down her fur and illuminates her features. Out of the corner of his eye, Crowpaw can spot Milkpaw, Bramblepaw, Rabbitpaw, and Palepaw staring on in a mixture and envy and happiness for their friend. Crowpaw shivers suddenly as a new worry hits him: since he didn't yet interact with many other cats besides a pawful, would the Clan chant as loudly for him as they would for Nightpaw?

Crowpaw misses half of the next line as he violently tries to shove his worries away, and his ears perk up.

"-his moment on, you will be known as Nightbreeze. StarClan honors your thoughtfulness and agility, and we welcome you as a full warrior of WindClan."

Crowpaw feels pure love for his sister ignite in his heart as he starts to yowl, "Nightbreeze! Nightbreeze!" as loudly as his lungs allow him to, competing with Rabbitpaw, Starlingflight, and Featherpool to shriek her name the loudest. Nightpa- no, _Nightbreeze_ \- stares back at him, her icy blue eyes gleaming. Light pours down onto her pelt, illuminating her figure as the new warrior stands there in front of the sea of cats.

For a moment, the world stops spinning and skids to a stop as his name is called.

"Crowpaw, please step up," Deerstar meows. The gentle world around him seems so surreal and dreamlike as he takes graceful steps forward beside Nightbreeze, his long, sleek tail lifted high in the air. He tries to sit as tall as his sister, lifting his neck upwards as the Clan falls under a silence.

"I, Deerstar, leader of WindClan," the leader begins again, "call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to to you as a warrior in turn. Crowpaw-" for a moment, it feels as if all of the birds are silenced, the rivers stop singing, and the wind stops blowing to focus solely on Crowpaw- "do you promise to uphold the warrior code and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

Crowpaw stares up at Deerstar and falters for a moment, his muzzle hanging open, before he swallows. His words are loud and prideful as he tries to send them around the Clan, down the moors, across the lake, and into the clouds.

"I do."

They're simple words, just a little phrase; however, to Crowpaw, it feels as if his entire existence relies upon them.

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Crowpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Crowstorm. StarClan honors your perseverance and stealth, and we welcome you as a full warrior of WindClan."

Pride gushes from his heart into his arteries, his veins, and eventually spreads across his body as a gust of happiness slams into his pelt like a whirling wind at night. Cheers rise up throughout the Clan, Nightbreeze, Hollystem, and Sedgenose's cries most prominent as the yowls rise to the clouds. For a moment, he feels as if the cheering is a bit more quiet and rushed than Nightbreeze's, and feels her shadow cast upon him lightly. _Be grateful, you have your warrior name!_

Deerstar smiles down at him warmly and waits for the cries to die down as Crowstorm's fur starts to sparkle with electricity. As Nightbreeze stands up, he realizes with a pang of embarrassment that the only reason that Deerstar hadn't ordered the Clan to disperse yet was because they were to go on Tallrock and lick the leader's shoulder.

Crowstorm stands shakily and licks his sister's ear affectionately before taking slow steps towards the heaving rock, feeling the sun warmly embrace the siblings. He takes a shaky inhale as he sets his first paw on the warm rock. _This might be the only time I'll ever get to stand on it,_ he thinks as he trails after Nightbreeze, climbing up and up for what feels like so long, even though it is only about two foxlengths tall.

For a rare moment, Crowstorm examines the old leader's features- his dull tabby pelt, and even duller yellow eyes to compliment it, and his graying muzzle stand out to him more than Crowstorm had once thought. Nightbreeze dips her head respectfully and Deerstar rests his muzzle atop her black head, she licking his coarse shoulder fur in turn.

Nightbreeze purrs towards Crowstorm as she steps aside, letting him pad closer to the leader. Their interaction is cut short for a few moments as Deerstar stares at him, then down at Willowtail, who sits outside of her den up at the newly-pronounced warriors. His ears lower a bit and his yellow eyes grow a bit wider after Willowtail glances at Crowstorm pointedly, feeling uneasiness creep along Crowstorm's spine. After a long moment, Deerstar inches a bit closer to the black tomcat and rests his muzzle atop his forehead stiffly, craning his neck in order for his body not to be too close to Crowstorm. Confusion flashes in Crowstorm's eyes as he licks the leader's shoulder, who instantly pulls back after that and dips his head curtly. The manner in which the short interaction went makes Crowstorm realize how much more unwelcoming Deerstar was to him compared to Nightbreeze, leaving a bit of envy to reside under his fur. _Why is Deerstar being so weird now?_

The leader quietly ushers them off of the rock and, as soon as he calls for the meeting to disperse, leaps down from the wrong side of Tallrock beside Willowtail. Crowstorm tries to keep his ears from flattening even the tiniest bit as he reaches the ground again, staring out at the mostly empty clearing where the crowd had once been clustered together like pebbles. One look at his sister's beaming face, however, seems to ease his uncertainty as he leans forward and nuzzles her cheek roughly.

 **I was thinking of making this chapter** ** _much_** **longer, but I didn't.. really.. know how to continue from there, so sorry if it stops abruptly. Anyways, are you able to guess why Deerstar was acting so odd around Crowstorm? (there is a correct answer!)**


	5. update

Hey guys!

I would just like to tell you all that this story is probably not going to be updated as frequently as I would like it to due to some emotional problems. Sorry, but thank you for all of the helpful and motivating reviews.


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